


Shoot the Skill

by Tomocum



Category: Persona 4, Persona Series
Genre: Bad Jokes, Blow Jobs, Come Shot, Crying, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, Established Relationship, Facial, Fear, Finger Sucking, Gun Kink, Hand & Finger Kink, Mouth Kink, Not Beta Read, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Simulated Blowjob, Unhealthy Relationships, Weapons Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 07:00:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20720024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tomocum/pseuds/Tomocum
Summary: Adachi fucks your mouth while being a generally rude dick.





	Shoot the Skill

**Author's Note:**

> What do I even say here? Get off my dick. I'm going to bed because I got a lil' drunk finishing this up.
> 
> **Read the tags, probably.**

“Look at you. Barely touched you and you're already drooling like a pathetic bitch.” Adachi followed his mockery with a light ‘tsk tsk’ for punctuation. With each sound that passed his lips, the hotter you felt, unsure if it was from frustration or… _ frustration _.

You couldn't help but think that it was unfair of him to say such a thing. If your mouth wasn't busy being invaded by his fingers, you'd _ mouth off _ to him about that. The taste of gunpowder, coffee with too much milk and cigarettes--he didn't even smoke, what was up with that--overwhelmed your tastebuds. The thought that the strangely pleasant (only because it was his) unpleasant taste lingering in your mouth for hours, maybe even days, made you grimace and shiver in your spot. It was almost enough to distract you from the awful sound of his dirty fingernails scraping against your molars. 

Almost. 

Though, it was obvious that Adachi didn't care how you felt. From the moment he sent you crashing onto his knees, it was obvious. It was the same as it ever was. There was a time where you would have complained about it with tears in your eyes--whether it was from how brutally he fucked your throat or the humiliation from how he treated you--but he made it clear that he didn’t care. You were just a warm hole to the detective. The thought made you burn up with anger and regretful lust. You didn’t know what was worse; the fact that Adachi trained you to become the perfect toy for him or the possibility that the need to submit was always there and he was the first man that paid you any attention so he didn't even have to try.

His fingers dove deeper into your drooling maw, coating each digit with runny saliva that endlessly ran down your lips and chin, and forced you to gag. That cruel laughter of his rang in your ears at what was probably a pathetic sight to him. The nail of his middle finger prodded at your palate over and over, as if he were fascinated by the sensation, and did little to relieve you of your plight. His hand suddenly flipped over with a flick of the wrist. Your teeth lightly scraped against his palm as he explored the depths of your mouth. 

Or what he could with his fingers. They weren’t the longest despite the size of his calloused hands. 

It seemed that Adachi had a similar thought and that's why he was so desperate to reach into your throat. Maybe he was, maybe he wasn’t. It sure felt that way though.

Saliva continued to roll down your face that only grew wetter and wetter with each stroke. Trails of tears soon joined the rivers of drool dripping down your face.

“Such a mess.” He clicked his tongue. “This is why I can’t take you anywhere. I can’t be seen in public with a bitch that’s _ gagging for it _ all the time.” 

You didn’t know if he wanted you to join in with laughter at his lame joke, but you didn't want to anyway. So, you settled for staring up at him ‘helplessly’ with teary eyes like you would when sucking his cock. He always seemed to like that, even if it only pushed him further. (‘_ The sooner he finishes, the better _’ you’d lie to yourself.) 

His breath caught in his throat at the sight. The way you were panting around his fingers, eyes wide but blurry with tears and that never-ending stream of saliva coating his hands and seeping into your clothes… It was quite a sight if a familiar one. 

“Nice, very nice,” he said. His free hand now resting itself on the top of your head and stroking it, his nails only slightly scraping against your scalp as he murmured your name. His other hand continued to explore your aching mouth in an almost tender way. That gentleness was foreign but hardly unwelcome. Soft moans slipped past your stretched lips. He chuckled at the fact you were moaning or at how muddied the sound was thanks to him. The pads of his ring and middle finger ran along the roof of your mouth. The tip of his middle one occasionally dipping into the shallow grooves of your palate before flicking the back of your top incisors as he pulled out. 

A sweet smile spread itself across Adachi’s face. Lightning flashed dangerously in his storm coloured eyes as the gentle smile twisted itself into a lopsided smirk. His hand, still slick with your spit, gripped tight onto your chin painfully. Your skin slipped against his thanks to your drool but he managed to get a hold on you. As you tried to ignore the pain of his grip, your eyes flickered from his face and then down to his free hand which was on his hip. 

It was like a flash.

His revolver was suddenly in his hand and tracing the outline of your jaw. Terror struck your heart. Your pupils shrank to pinpricks as you stared down the barrel, unable to see the muzzle from this angle. The shallow breaths you took as he violated your mouth slowed to a crawl until you weren’t breathing at all as if the tiniest exhalation of air would set it off. 

“Aw, don’t be like that,” Adachi said with an obvious smirk across his lips. There was no way you’d be able to tear your eyes off of the gun dragging across your skin. “I thought we should… spice things up a bit--c’mon! Lighten up! You trust me, don’t you?”

The muzzle was now up against your forehead. 

Beads of sweat threatened to roll down your face and neck as you were forced to stare up at him.

The detective wrote that goofy close-lipped smile that endeared you to him back at Junes when you first met. That smile that’d only widen slightly, giving you the smallest hint of his whites, when he finally gathered the nerve to ask you to come drinking with you. Memories of him watching you as you pounded back the fourth or fifth drink he bought you that night flashed in your mind. Then you were at his apartment and he forced you onto your knees just like he did now, revealing that almost unhinged side of him. Your throat was effectively carved into the shape of his cock by the end of the night and the taste of his loads lingered in your mouth for hours afterward. His cruel laughter and almost sickening words he rained upon you as he choked you with his average at best--well, no, it felt huge when lodged into your throat and left your voice completely raw--cock rang in your ears as you tried to fall asleep. That goofy smile of his was back on his face as he drove you back home, leaning over you to open the door and having the absolute balls to tell you to ‘get home safe’ after everything. 

You guessed that smile was what kept you coming back for more and more. You were here again after all.

Adachi called your name in that cheerful, easy-going tone of his with only the slightest hint of venom tracing each syllable that dripped out of his lips. “You trust me right?”

Swallowing, you nodded.

He grinned, his wide eyes crinkling up ever so slightly. “Really? Even when I do… this?” The click of the hammer drawing back was deafening and echoed through the still air of his remarkably pristine apartment. (“What does pulling that back even do? The hammer or whatever,” You asked him over grilled steak one day. “Effect mostly,” he muttered as he tore into that leathery Junes beef. “Though, it takes less force if you draw it back… There’s also more consistent accuracy or somethin’.) Tears welled up in the corners of your eyes as he pushed the muzzle deeper against your forehead, surely if he pulled away, there’d be an inexplainable indent in the center of your skull. 

Laughter spilled from your lips as your mind raced to think of anything, absolutely anything to get out of this or to even justify Adachi’s insane behavior right now. Hiccups bubbled from deep within your chest and filled up the room. As if the cocksure grin on his face couldn’t get any wider, the corner of his wide lips twitched before he joined in on the laughter. 

He drew in a few shaky breaths before pulling the trigger.

A silent scream tore through your throat as you braced yourself for oblivion… that never came.

“Oh, oh, oh, I’m so sorry,” he gasped. His other hand, you didn’t even notice that he let go of your chin a while ago, wiped the corner of his right eye as he breathed out your name. “That was priceless--I couldn’t _ not _ try that. It’s not loaded, _ you stupid bitch _. Did you really think I’d kill you? In my own apartment with that nosy, old hag next door?” More laughter followed. His repeated mutterings about how hurt he was by you easily being swallowed up by his laugh. The gun was thankfully dropped from your forehead and was now waving in the still air, though your eyes weren’t following it.

Tears continued to stream down your face your eyes glued to the floor between Adachi’s socked feet, as your own laughter overflowed onto the tatami mats below.

“Hey, I have a way for you to make it up to me.” His free hand was cradling your face once more. The pad of his thumb pressed against your lips, just below your cupid’s bow, with enough force to slightly part them. “You wanna make me feel better, right? After you hurt me, right, baby?”

Delirious from your fake near-death experience, you nodded. 

“Good. Open your mouth.”

You did, expecting his cock to once again plunge into your windpipe as heat coursed through your already pulsing veins. 

Instead of that familiar, salty warmth invading your drooling mouth, you got steel and traces of gunpowder sliding against your tongue. Of course, of-fucking-course, Adachi would take the chance to be a bigger dick than usual by raping your mouth with the thing that nearly killed you. (If it wasn’t the bullet that wasn’t there, it would’ve been the heart attack that never came). 

“There you go again with that look on your face. C’mon, don’t be like that. Suck it. Suck it like you’d suck on my cock. Do a good job and I’ll give you…” He hummed, tilting his head back as he pretended to ponder a worthwhile reward for putting up with this. You swore to yourself that this would be the last time you’d come back here and ignore his waves and boyish smiles at the lobby of Junes (the back of your mind knew better though.) “Do a good job and I’ll actually give you a taste of my dick, you’d like that huh? You fucking cockslut.”

Heat flashed inside your chest and once again, you didn’t know if it was from irritation or his ‘training’ you into being the perfect little fucktoy that got off on being degraded. Forcing out a hopefully sensual sounding moan, your trembling hands reached for his wrist. Your fingers wrapped around it, his rapid pulse under your touch reminding you that this was indeed reality. This wasn’t some weird psychosexual dream caused by too many sessions with Adachi and American cop movie marathons. 

His hand shook as you traced your lips across the barrel. Capturing the sides of the smooth metal between your lips, you slid up and down, switching from side to side whenever your lips would bump against his knuckles or the cylinder. Soon, you were back to the tip. His words about sucking off his gun like his dick rang in your mind once again. Trying hard to not grimace, you flicked your tongue against the muzzle, desperately trying to pretend you were lapping that steady stream of precum that leaked out of his excited dick. All you got was the taste of astringent, peppery taste of gunpowder that you simply couldn’t care for in this situation. 

Clearly bored, Adachi thrust the gun forward, the barrel nearly slamming into the back of your throat. As narrow as it was, theoretically easier to swallow than his girth, you couldn’t help but gag and choke around the gun. Your watery eyes flickered upwards to see him chuckle at your misery. “Guess I gotta do everything myself, huh?” He asked as he began to pull his gun from your mouth. Surely, he was just going to choke you on it once again.

Unwilling to let him take control once again, your hands gripped tighter around his wrist and dove forward. Your cheeks hollowed around the barrel as your tongue wriggled against the underside, tracing shapes that you think he might’ve liked judging by his reaction whenever you did it to his cock. Your tongue swirled around the tip as if you were trying to slide under his foreskin, something_ you knew _he liked. It might’ve been pointless. This was an object you were pleasuring, but, surely he’d appreciate the effort, right? You tilted your head to the side, trying to avoid clinking your teeth against the gun as you let it bulge inside your cheek, as uncomfortable as all the sharp angles felt against your flesh. 

He whistled. “You’re really getting into this, huh? I might just shoot my load any second now.” 

You snorted. It was lame and he _ had to _ have known it. Rolling your eyes before shutting them, you gave a hard suck around the ‘base’ before pulling away. ‘’ _ The sooner, the better, the sooner the better-- _’’ you repeated in your head as you bobbed along the barrel. 

Spittle welled up inside your mouth, pooling under your constantly wriggling tongue and threatening to spill out of the tight seal of your lips with each stroke. Every inch of your face felt sticky thanks to sweat, drool and tears, all of which he had caused. 

Screwing your eyes shut, you tried to ignore that fact. You tried to ignore the scraping of the front sight against the roof of your mouth. You tried to ignore the taste of metal--was it blood or the barrel, you almost didn’t want to know--that seemed to seep into every corner and crevice of your mouth. You tried to ignore the weight of his gaze and how he was reveling in the power he held over you. 

You tried to ignore how hot and needy you felt at that moment, your holes twitching obscenely as you wished he would _ just fuck you already instead of this bullshit _\--

The sound of your name caused that train of thought to come to a screeching halt. Your eyes fluttered open as he dragged his gun out of your mouth before tossing it to the cushion beside him. He shot you that lopsided grin before clicking his tongue and gesturing downward.

Your eyes slowly traveled downward only to be greeted with the sight of his throbbing dick.

“Get to work.”

Diving forward, your hands gripped onto his knees to keep yourself steady as you swallowed his dick. His completely and utterly average dick that you couldn’t live without, at least for those last few minutes. 

The taste of his gun stained your mouth and was unwilling to be washed away by the taste of his precum. Even as the head bulged against your cheeks or whenever it smeared across your swollen lips like a gloss. Not even when your tongue wriggled between the flesh of his cock and foreskin, swiping across that sensitive skin over and over again as if to draw out more precum. Slick, almost disgusting noises filled the air as you bobbed your head along his dick. Desperation welled up inside you, threatening to burst out of your pores and stain his wrinkled suit pants and seep into the cracks of the tatami mat. 

He groaned out your name, his fingers scratching your scalp as he tried to pull you off his dick. 

You gasped, staring up at him with half-lidded eyes as he rose from his seat. The one-hand stayed planted on your head, effectively keeping you in place, as the other grabbed his dick and stroked madly. With a grunt that only sounded slightly overcompensated, Adachi came onto your face. Thick globs of white streaked across your face; the first shot landing just below your right eye as the last two shot right into your gaping mouth.

Still panting, you couldn’t help but mutter the words “nice shot.”

Adachi laughed at that as he dropped back into the couch.


End file.
